


Trope 'till You Drop

by CAPSING



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, M/M, Pre-Slash, Tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8218222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CAPSING/pseuds/CAPSING
Summary: A collection of short stories based on popular tropes, as follows:1. Accidental Sexbot Acquisition.2. "our children had a fight in school anD HOLY SHIT YOU'RE HOT"





	1. Top Gear

**Author's Note:**

> Each story would have its own warnings, check those in the notes.
> 
> Shoutout to suddenlyapples and futoshako for saying nice things about my stories over on twitter.  
> I heard you like domestic stuff. 8)  
> Warnings: Nudity and slight(?) sexual-suggestiveness.

The robot didn’t have any clothes.

Considering how much Sendak paid for it, it rankled him. He was willing to ignore the fact its right arm lacked the synthetic cover of artificial durable skin-tissue – the supplier notified him of it, that the prototype was yet to be complete – but Sendak didn’t deem it necessary for the robot’s functions.

He wrinkled his nose at the robot’s pelvis; Sendak himself never encountered a naked human, but he hardly saw the use for the limp, small tentacle that was attached, or the wiry fur surrounding it; the manufacturer was sure keen on adding details to provide unnecessary authenticity for their product.

Snorting through his nose, he picked the attached instruction chip and loaded it into the nearest port; the sooner the robot could get to work, the better.

 

After reading through a suspiciously short manual, Sendak approached the robot, which was still in the box it came in, though a sentry covered it up with a standard uniform.

 The thing with the sentries was that they weren’t as useful as most incompetent Commanders chose to ignore; looking throughout the data over a long period of time, Sendak concluded that their presence did decrease security breaches, but at such a meager percentage the correlation between the two factors could be negated. Their programming was simple, based on a dichotomic ‘Friend or Foe’ line of action which was then provided with several hundred scenarios to a proper course of action.  They could not fix a broken replicator, nor assigned to deal with issues in the engine rooms – they lacked the most basic learning algorithm.  

They couldn’t even be programed to wash the floors.

Taking all of this into consideration, Sendak spent a fair amount of time researching for a proper– he wouldn’t say _replacement_ , since Sendak surely didn’t question the orders passed down by Emperor Zarkon – a proper _addition_ to the crew. An efficient multitasker, proficient in dealing with all sorts of issues that could happen in a ship, from intruders to system-malfunctions – an AI complex enough to deal with those without Sendak having to micromanage the incident to the point he might’ve just solved it himself.

The 5H-1R0 seemed like a good investment, his lieutenant told him over one of their joined meals. It was sold under guarantee ‘it would fulfill each and every one of the owner’s deepest desires, no matter how unusual, to the best of its abilities’ and the promise of ‘complete and utter satisfaction’.

The manual read it activates by swiping a finger on a parallel line on its face; as per instructions, Sendak pressed a finger and did as such.

The robot’s eyes snapped open; with the unusual stillness of a decommissioned machine gone, it immediately seemed more like an organic life-form, even with its obvious mechanical arm – with Sendak’s own prosthetic arm, it didn’t seen that unusual. It lay prone in its box, looking at Sendak at a most peculiar manner.

“Master,” it said, its lids dropping, “I’ve waited so long–“

“Get up,” Sendak commanded, not caring for introductory protocols. “And follow me.”

“Yes, Master,” It was smiling, but Sendak didn’t care much for it – the robot was designed for humans, and they probably needed extravagant facial expressions to be made more comfortable around what was basically very-advanced-humanoid-tool.

It followed in a steady pace to the main pipe-room; there was a clogged line that needed tending to. Patting his belt absentmindedly for his communicator, Sendak realized it was not on him; he left it in his quarters. Without breaking stride, he took a sharp turn left and made to retrieve it, the robot following attentively behind.

Pressing his hand against the lock, the door slid open; Sendak busied himself with finding his communicator, that wasn’t at the desk as he anticipated; nor was it in any of the drawers, the utilities room, the safe or in either of the storage components – which left just one more place – the bed.

Which was queerly occupied.

 

“Master,” the robot sighed, smile widening when Sendak frowned at it, “please, I can’t–“

“Where are your clothes?”

The robot stopped fondling two brown nubs on its chest, though its back remains arched. It looked puzzled.

“My clothes?” it repeated.

“Are your sensors malfunctioning?” Sendak asked as annoyance started to simmer in the back of his mind. Human-made things were as easy to break as he initially assumed they would.

Whyever did he give it the benefit of the doubt?

“No, Master,” the robot replied, slowly lowering itself to the bed while still looking at Sendak, who approached the bed. It remained motionless, while Sendak tried to spot the missing garments.

“Your clothes,” he repeated, towering over the robot, “what did you do with them?”

The robot’s eyes widened, before it again grinned.

Sendak was pretty sure it was malfunctioning, and that its self-diagnostic was defected as well.

“I burnt them,” it whispered, sprawling over the covers and spreading its limbs.

“You did _what_.”

The robot’s eyes flickered to the side of the bed, where indeed a small pile of ash rested.

“I’ve been _a bad boy_ ,” the robot’s voice protocols continued failing it, as its voice turned unsteady. “Punish me, Master.”

Leaning over, Sendak plucked the missing communicator from underneath the robot’s head, noticing how the robot shivered when his fur tickled against its fake skin.

Sendak grimaced.

“Stay there.” He ordered, and turned to press a series of buttons onto the device.

 

“Tron customer service,” a high-pitched voice announced, “How may I help you?”

“Regarding the 5H-1R0 model,” Sendak said, very carefully not turning to look at said model, “I have an inquiry.”

“Commander Sendak,” the operator chirped, much to Sendak’s dismay, “what seems to be the problem?”

“The model’s description promises ‘utter satisfaction’–“

“Are you unsatisfied?” The operator’s cheery tone took a disturbing note that made Sendak, who faced mortal crises on a daily basis, cringe.

“Tron aims for complete and utter satisfaction, of course. Our customers’ needs and sexual gratification is our first priority.” They casually confirmed Sendak’s suspicions; “Are you unsatisfied?”

Sendak really shouldn’t have turned to look at the bed; there was a reason he had his back to it in the first place. Upon it the robot laid, and curse its human makers that have made it so damn expressive. It looked like it just heard Sendak was about to throw it out of the ship from the nearest trash-hatch.

“If you are, Commander,” the operator continued when Sendak remained unresponsive, “we’d be happy to fully reimburse you, or send you a different model, more suited to your needs–“

“It’s fine,” Sendak cut her off, already planning to hack into the database and erase all trace of his person to the transaction. “It is–“ he gritted his teeth, “– _most_ satisfactory.”

“Oh!” The operator cooed again, the chill in their voice gone as if it was never there to begin with. “I’m glad to hear so. What may I help you with, then?”

“You already settled my inquiry.” He huffed, eager to finish the transmission. “Vrepit sa.”

“Vrepi–“

He ended the call, barely keeping from crushing the communicator in his hand, reminding himself he’d be the one who would have to fix it.

 

 

He was going to kill Haxus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Shiro thanks him for sparing his unworthy robo-life, Sendak finds out Shiro is actually super-capable in everything, and Shiro still subtly tries to get Sendak to bang him.  
> *  
> As of yesterday, I'm also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/CAPSINGZ).  
> 


	2. Pushover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trope: "our children had a fight in school anD HOLY SHIT YOU'RE HOT"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Klance + Space-Dads Shendak  
> Rating: T. Some sexual suggestiveness and UST.  
> Setting: Keith and Lance are third-graders in the same space-school. Shiro and Sendak are both military – Shiro’s in Earth’s army, Sendak’s a Galra Commander. Shiro adopted Lance because of some vague tragic circumstances.

“He started it!”  
“Lance.”  
“He did!”

  
This was not how Shiro planned to spend his Monday morning, sitting next to his son in a stuffy principal’s office which was not designed to accommodate as many people as it did, at the moment. He felt a headache building, rushed along by the intimidating force to his right.   
“Mr. McClain,” Principal Alfor chided from across the table, before clearing his throat, eyes sliding across the three people who sat in front of him, letting them rest pointedly on the only one who chose to stand, with little impact.

“If you’re quite done, I’d like us all to get to the bottom of it." He turned to look at the boy who sat to Lance's right, feet too short to even reach the floor, his posture rigid and shoulders hunched; Shiro had to keep himself from telling him to straighten his back. "Mr. Kogane, it had come to my attention you assaulted a fellow student. Would you care to explain yourself?”

  
Keith’s ears pressed downwards onto his uncharacteristic mop of black hair, making Shiro feel instinctively sympathetic towards the boy. It wasn't as if he could turn down his paternal instincts at will, surely not with Lance leaning towards him, asking for silent reassurance but trying not to look like a crybaby. It was hard being angry at Keith, even if this was not how he expected to meet the leading star of all of Lance’s many tales of his school adventures around the dinner table, titled as his sworn rival (and yet unadmitted crush).  
Shiro thought it was pretty adorable. He was looking forwards towards Lance finally managing to invite Keith over, or just telling him he had finally managed to speak more than two sentence to him on the playground.   
But it seemed his daydreams were crushed, along with Lance’s feelings.

Strangely, Keith looked almost as heartbroken as Lance did.

 

“What is Keith accused of, exactly?”

Shiro felt himself shiver slightly at the voice, deep and smooth. It was the first thing the adult Galra have said; Shiro guessed he must’ve been Keith’s father, though they didn’t look much alike - but considering Lance, as well as the Galran genetic diversity, Shiro knew better than to make such assumptions.

“He pushed me!” Lance accused before Principal Alfor even had a chance to respond, glaring straight at the Galran with all the fury a nine year old could muster after being treated unfairly. “He pushed me into a wall!”

  
The change wouldn't have been clear to someone who hadn't been forced into a strained diplomatic work-relations with Galra for the past three years; it was a collection of tiny miniscule shifts in his face and stance which tipped Shiro off – the Galran looked like he’d just been told his third grader kid had committed atrocities in an intergalactic scale – a minimum of a genocide with maybe one or four blown up planets thrown in. Considering the Galra tendency to watch blood-sports as entertainment and encourage their children to reap glory as voluntary gladiators, Shiro didn’t quite get _why_. There was something that didn’t quite sit right with him; Keith just didn’t _seem_ like a bully. Physically, he was lithe and not much bigger than Lance. The class’ makeup was diverse enough that no species got to form a majority, and with his father being a Galran High-Commander, if the uniform was anything to go by – Shiro was quite sure Keith was expected not to raise any potential racial tensions in his integrated school. Besides, he thought, looking at Keith, that wasn’t the face of someone who was annoyed they got caught; Keith looked utterly dejected, turning smaller as he hunched his shoulders further, like he was trying to get swollen into his red jacket. He was being uncharacteristically expressive for a Galra, but Shiro assumed it had something to do with his young age; the kid was either a terrific actor worthy of an Oscar, or that there was a different factor in play Shiro just couldn’t quite see.

Shiro felt the collar of his own uniform getting too tight as he tried not to blatantly stare, suddenly flooded with concern; Keith was exhibiting an alarming number of signs that pointed to potential domestic abuse – Shiro had no clue how common the phenomenon was among the Galra, but it seemed pessimistically possible. 

 

“Mr. Kogane?” Principal Alfor prompted when Keith did not speak up to defend himself – but the boy remained quiet, eyes downcast, staring at his shoes.

“You do not deny those accusations, then?”

Keith shook his head.

“You are aware you could’ve caused Mr. McClain serious damage,” Principal Alfor said, voice stern. “You’re much stronger than any of your classmates, I’m sure you’re aware.”

“No he’s not,” Lance muttered sullenly, crossing his arms on his chest, sulking.

“Yes, he is, Mr. McClain,” Principal Alfor turned to Lance, before returning his attention to Keith. “You’re both very lucky Mr. McClain wasn’t badly hurt in the incident, but that sort of behaviour–“ The adult Galran made some sort of a strange low growl in the background, though his mouth was kept shut “–has no place in our school. If you’re feeling angry, Mr. Kogane, you should seek out an adult, to help you. Seeing as your record was clean so far, I’d let you off with a warning this time. Don’t let there be a next time.”

“There won’t be,” Keith’s father spoke in his stead, glaring down at him.

“Now,” Principal Alfor added in a conclusive tone, “you should apologize to Mr. McClain for your behaviour.”

Keith’s eyes widened, and he turned to his father, who grumbled an incoherent sound in response, giving the tiniest tilt of his head that could have been loosely seen as a nod. Keith seemed, if possible, even sadder than before, a crestfallen atmosphere washing all over him like someone just dunked him with a bucket of murky waters on a cold winter's day.

  
"I’m sorry," he spoke, voice small, not even looking at Lance. Like all forced apologies, the words didn’t clear the air at all - in fact, they might’ve added even more tension – but the scenario had motions to run through and all the players that had been forced into it were bound to play their part.

  
"It’s fine," Lance muttered to his shoes, and Shiro felt a swell of pride growing warm in his chest, setting his arm on Lance’s shoulder in support. He hardly did more than offer support to Lance, and considering Keith’s dejection and his father’s menacing presence, Shiro just wanted to get out of there as quickly as he could, to take Lance back home where Shiro could cradle him to his chest where he’d be perfectly safe and Shiro could release the pent-up anxiety that he carefully managed to suppress at the uneasy reality of having to deposit Lance’s safety into the hands of virtual strangers and having nothing to do with it other than hope for the best.

 

Social obligations fulfilled, Principal Alfor concluded the meeting with a nod and more of the same, stretching a few more minutes as to not make it appear he had dragged both of the parents from their busy schedules for a minor matter that had been settled within minutes. While avoiding looking to his right, Shiro let Lance slip his hand into his own, trying to pull him to the shuttle quickly to minimize the awkwardness of the post-talk as much as possible.

He had taken about three steps out of the office before a voice called out, twice before he registered it, and before he knew what was happening, he and Lance sat along Keith and his father in a secluded classroom because Shiro didn’t quite have the option of refusing a high-ranking officer while he was wearing his uniform.

 

“I felt it was crucial to clarify the misunderstanding that occurred.” Keith’s father spoke, voice just the right amount of haughty that made Shiro want to punch him in the face.  

“He pushed me!” Lance called, hand slipping from Shiro's to step closer to Keith as he stuck out an accusing finger in his direction, as if it was proof enough.

“You weren’t supposed to _fall_!” Keith burst out, surprising Shiro with how thin his voice was; he looked upset, frowning, ears twitching - but his voice sounded like a whining puppy.

 

“Keith,” the commander turned to his son, whose ears immediately perked up in attention; “Humans are not the same as us. They’ve very simple creatures – they demand a different approach.”

“Excuse me?”

“You need to show them what you mean,” the alien continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “Mr. McClain–“

“It’s Shiro.”

“Shiro, if you’d allow me to demonstrate?”

“Please do,” Shiro said, the words so dry he almost spat out sand, already about to rant out a piece of his mind, high-ranking officer or not.

“When done properly, the equivalent of what humans consider romantic persuasion is conducted as such.”

Shiro had about two seconds to feel the structure of this sentence did not bode well for him; after two seconds, he felt entirely different – as he was slammed entirely into the classroom wall, luckily clear of any jutting nails.

It wasn’t that Shiro was unfamiliar with pain or hand-to-hand combat; any soldier had underwent obligatory training in that regard, and Shiro had his fair share. The problem of being thrown against a wall and pinned into place by a rock-hard adult body was quite different. Shiro was in a tight spot, and the tightness steadily growing in his pants wasn’t helping any.

Thing was, being a single parent left very little of Shiro’s life to himself. He loved Lance with all of his heart, and he never regretted his decision to take him in – but he also loved having a semi-regular decent sex-life, which all but faded ever since Lance got into the picture.

It wasn’t as much as a dry spell as much as Shiro being a Hogwarts graduate by now.

“Keith had no intention of assaulting your offspring." The Galra spoke casually, as if they'd been pleasantly discussing the weather, and Shiro's feet weren't dangling above the floor, breath tickling the back of Shiro's skull. "He was trying to court him.”

“ _Father_ ,” a whine distinctly registered in Shiro’s brain, sounding mortified; Shiro felt the sentiment entirely at that moment.

“Pretty straightforward,” Shiro managed to keep his voice in check, cheek aching against the wall. He thought he tasted a bit of blood in his mouth, and immediately reined back in every indecent thought he had. He felt like those men on TV that jumped on crocodiles and deemed them safe as they duct-taped their mouth shut - a temporary solution for a dangerous act, whose consequences were remained to be seen.

“But I’m sure even Galra protocol dictates you should tell someone your name before throwing such declarations around.”

“Commander Sendak,” the Galran purred into his ear, the length of his body buzzing against Shiro’s back. “Pleased to meet you. I’ve heard much of your offspring.”

“You told your dad about me?” Lance voice peeped up; Shiro couldn’t see him, seeing as Sendak’s bulk was still blocking most of his field of vision, and because for some reason Shiro’s brain didn’t yet tell Sendak to unhand him, maybe because his dick was very much against it, doing everything it could to dig those buried thoughts back up like a dog after a bone (or like a man desperate to get thoroughly boned). 

Keith didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to – Shiro could picture Lance’s expression.

“ _You told your dad about me,_ ” Lance repeated, tone growing more excited with each and every word. “You _like_ me!”

“I–“

“You like _me_ ,” Lance said aloud once more, his method to assure himself when he was bordering between 'anxious' and 'thrilled beyond measure' (and Lance’s measure of excitement had its very own scale).

“Yeah,” Keith finally managed to speak, ensuing a short silence. To distract himself from his very inappropriately aching dick, Shiro tried to picture the scene he was missing, not managing to elbow Sendak out of his way. Any attempt to move just made Sendak press tighter against him, and the grip of the arm that was twisted behind Shiro’s back tighten in warning. Keith’s taciturn nature, very different than Lance’s description, would work well with Lance’s own blabbermouth one, Shiro thought, very much not feeling his toes curling in his boots.

 

“You could’ve just said so,” Shiro could hear Lance sulking, “you didn’t need to push me. I don’t like being pushed around.”

“That’s not how–“

“Lance,” Sendak cut in, “You’re not paying attention.”

“Put me down,” Shiro finally spoke, to sort his child’s baffled mind; Lance was, unfortunately, all talk – despite his loud bravado, he had a very hard time believing anyone genuinely cared for him, much less his official rival, and needed constant reassurance that Shiro never failed to supply. 

Sendak did, stepping back and leaving Shiro feeling cold and very much in need of an intense brutal hook-up for which he’d probably have to wait until Lance graduated.

From college.

He hastily straightened his uniform and thanked whoever designed them for the hard fabric of his pants and the long standard overcoat which reached his mid-thighs, helping to hide his erection from eyes that really shouldn’t be exposed to it.

Lance looked up at him, confusion clear as Shiro crouched next to him, giving both him and Keith a reassuring smile.

“Keith likes you,” he told him, looking at Keith for reaffirmation. “Don’t you, Keith?”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, looking slightly loss; his clawed hands fumbled with the zipper on his jacket.

“But he didn’t say so.”

“He said so in his own way. He’s saying so now. What did we say about listening to other people, Lance?”

Lance didn’t respond, eyes shifting from Shiro to Keith; Shiro could practically see the gears in his mind turning, absorbing the events and sorting them out like a complicated puzzle which clicked into place just as Lance's eyes flashed in determination.

“If we’re gonna get married, we’re going to need robots.” He told Keith solemnly.

The speed of the change in Lance’s state of mind left such a whiplash that Shiro fell on his ass, gaping, brief anxious thoughts reminding him Galra never joked. About anything. Ever. He followed Keith's gaze, looking over his shoulder to see Sendak, who seemed entirely unperturbed by his son's plans of wedlock at an age so tender it didn't even have double-digits.

“We can arrange for robots,” Sendak replied evenly. “It might take a while.”

“Cool,” Lance grinned.

“How many?” Keith asked, but Lance shook his head, skidding towards him and tackling them both to the floor with a hug-attempt that seemed more like he'd been trying to save Keith from being shot by an assassin at the very last second.

“I’m thinking five,” he giggled into Keith’s face in delight; Shiro saw Keith’s lips twitching into a tiny smile and felt his own heart twitching into a potential cardiac-arrest.

“I was talking about our children,” Keith clarified, looking quite comfortable at being squished by Lance's affectionate enthusiasm. Shiro felt faint.

Lance laughed.

“Me too!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Then at some point eventually Shiro and Sendak bang and they’re both very happy.  
> The wedding does have robots, as promised.  
> This was sorta based on [ this Shendak prompt](http://voltron-kink.dreamwidth.org/1161.html?thread=330121) that I really like. Alfor was biased against Keith on purpose; that’s not how he should’ve acted with a child.
> 
> Comments make me happy :D

**Author's Note:**

> comment to feed my inbox


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